


Lift

by Milky_Etoile



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale's real middle name is D, Crowley's adorable hissing, Episode: s01e03 Hard Times, Fluff, Historical Inaccuracy, How Do I Tag, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Other, POV Aziraphale (Good Omens), Sleepy Crowley, The Bentley Ships It (Good Omens), bc why not, it's for Denial, it's not just a D, this tag actually exists wow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-24 03:56:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19715737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milky_Etoile/pseuds/Milky_Etoile
Summary: Even destroyed, churches are still consecrated.Wherein Crowley's feet still get burned by consecrated church land and Aziraphale starts noticing his feelings but finds them awfully inconvenient. So both of them need a lift.Inspired bythis amazing fanartby@johanirae.





	Lift

**Author's Note:**

> Someone shared [this amazing fanart](https://johanirae.tumblr.com/post/185928230836/good-omens-even-though-the-church-was-bombed) by [@johanirae](https://johanirae.tumblr.com/) and I just couldn’t let the idea go. Thank you for giving permission to write this!
> 
> Please check out [@johanirae](https://johanirae.tumblr.com/)'s art–they’re all beautiful and inspiring! <3

“Lift home?” Crowley asked jauntily. Aziraphale would have replied immediately if he wasn’t still feeling his unnecessary heart beating faster in his chest. Crowley probably assumed that he agreed.

But then, as the demon turned around and took a step, he stumbled forward.

“Crowley!”

Aziraphale immediately rushed to catch him, wrapping his arms around the demon’s shoulders and dropping the bag of books in his haste.

“My dear boy, are you quite all right?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowed in worry for his friend. At Crowley’s grunt and weak attempt to stand back up, the angel huffed in exasperation. “What am I saying, of course, you’re not all right. Is it your feet?”

Crowley let out a hiss and suddenly sprang up, once again hopping on one foot then the other. “Forgot, ooh–churchesss–whole lot is consssecrated– _ow_ –” 

“Oh, dear.” Aziraphale glanced around, wringing his hands as he considered what he could do–

“Aha!” His eyes lit up as he remembered seeing a couple of humans in the park the other turned around and crouched slightly, leaning forward[1].

“Hop on my back, dear, let me carry you,” he said.

“What?” Crowley hissed again from behind him but didn’t come close. “Carry me?”

The angel refrained from rolling his eyes at the other’s disbelief, but it was a close thing. “Yes, Crowley, I can carry you until we reach your car. It’s the least I can do after all of your help.” When he heard nothing but the tapping of Crowley’s feet behind him, Aziraphale turned back around to stare at the demon beseechingly. “Please, Crowley. This is my fault–let me make it up to you, dear.”

Crowley threw his head back with a begrudging groan of, “Fine!” He waved a hand at him in a vague shooing motion. “Turn around, angel.”

Aziraphale beamed at him and resumed his previous position. He carefully steadied himself as Crowley unceremoniously draped his body on the angel’s back. The demon wrapped his arms around Aziraphale’s shoulders and hissed once more as he hitched his legs around the angel’s waist.

“Not too tight, dear,” Aziraphale bid, feeling for a moment like prey being constricted by one of those huge snakes. He miracled the bag of books back into his hand’s grip then carefully hooked his arms under Crowley’s knees. “Just put your weight on me.”

He wondered if he had subconsciously miracled his voice to remain steady with how his heart felt like jumping out of his chest once more. He felt his face flush as he became acutely aware of every point of contact between them. He knew that he really did not need to feel these very human reactions, but they existed nonetheless. It was quite distracting–he had no idea how humans dealt with this in their short lives.

“Right.” He cleared his throat and pointedly ignored the feeling of Crowley slumping against him, his chin settling on Aziraphale’s left shoulder. “Shall we?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Crowley grumbled, his warm breath brushing against Aziraphale’s left ear. “You better have some good alcohol ready, angel. I feel like I could drink a whole barrel after this.”[2]

"Really, my dear, that would be too much.” Aziraphale carefully wove his way around the debris, now concentrating on bringing them away from the area. “But, as a matter of fact, I do have a few bottles of red of Châteaux Mouton-Rothschild. Philippe de Rothschild had this remarkable idea of bottling their own vintage.”

Crowley hummed and tilted his head, the brim of his hat hitting the side of Aziraphale’s forehead. “Too bad the Germans got their vineyard, huh? I bet you had something to do with him getting released from the Vichy.”

“Perhaps I did,” the angel said a bit smugly. “He was quite the nice fellow.[3] Pity about his family though, dreadful business with the Germans.”[4]

“This whole war'ssss a dreadful businessss you mean.”

“Well, quite right.”

As they approached the end of the lot, he felt a bit of disappointment–which was as ridiculous as his corporation’s reactions to, well, everything related to Crowley right now. He cleared his throat needlessly. “Almost there.”

Crowley let out another hum but otherwise didn’t respond. He tightened his grip around Aziraphale’s shoulders for a moment then relaxed with a sigh.

“Are you alright there, Crowley?” Aziraphale asked, a bit worried. “Are your feet hurting, my dear?”

“Sss'fine,” Crowley grumbled, his words beginning to slur. “Ssssleepy…warm…”

Aziraphale felt warmth suffuse his chest, a fond expression crossing his features. “Please don’t sleep just yet, Crowley. I’m afraid I have no idea how to drive your car.”

“S'fine,” the demon repeated, sounding more coherent now but still tired. “I’ll ssstay awake.”

Aziraphale felt guilty now. Clearly, Crowley exhausted himself already, and his feet were probably aching, if not burnt. He deserved to rest.

“Actually, perhaps if you would permit,” the angel began tentatively as they approached the Bentley, which was parked across the street. “I could let it drive itself, so you can take a nap on the way.”

Crowley made an affronted noise. “You’d make it drive at five milesss per hour.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Crowley.” He stopped by the passenger seat and bade it open. “In you go.” He gently manoeuvred the demon into the seat. He placed the bag of books on the floor in front of the seat and patted the top.

“Feet on top now, dear boy. You probably have burns on them. I’m afraid I can’t heal them with my powers, as you know, injuries from holy objects.”

Crowley stared at him in silence, making him want to fidget.

“I hope you’d let me take care of them when we get to the bookshop though,” he added with uncertainty, feeling quite exposed for some reason.

“You want me to put my feet up on your precious books?” Crowley asked incredulously, his hissing absent now that he seemed more awake. “The same books I just saved for you?”

Aziraphale felt like his heart jumped to his throat at the reminder, which was quite preposterous. He steeled himself with an indignant huff, hoping to appear firm.

“You are clearly hurt, and I won’t have you hurting yourself further by having your feet hitting the carpet.”

He stepped back and closed the door, moving to the driver’s side. By the time he was settled in the driver’s seat, Crowley had already put his feet up as instructed and removed his hat.

“They’ll be fine, you know,” the demon mumbled, looking down at his feet. “No need to hurt your precious books.”

Aziraphale hadn’t thought he’d feel more fond of his friend after earlier but he was clearly feeling it now.

“My dear.” Very carefully, he placed a hand on Crowley’s cheek, startling the demon into looking at him. “Your feet are infinitely more precious than some old books.”

He watched as Crowley’s jaw dropped, his cheeks unexpectedly turning a lovely shade of red. Aziraphale felt his own face warm at the sight, his heart racing once more.

Confound this human body.

He dropped his hand and looked away, clearing his throat.

“The books are protected by the bag anyway,” he said with attempted nonchalance. “Shall we get on then?” He fixed his gaze on the steering wheel even as he heard the other sigh.

“Yeah, sure.” Aziraphale glanced back at him, watching him get comfortable for a moment. “Let’s get on with it.”

“Right.” He willed the car to start, bidding it to drive them to the bookshop. “Off we go then.”

The Bentley started up, headlights coming on and moving on its own. As it sped through the streets, the radio turned on, filling the car with Vivienne Segal’s voice.

 _“I’m wild again, beguiled again,_  
_A simpering, whimpering child again  
_ _Bewitched, bothered, and bewildered am I…” [5]_

* * *

1 He would later find out that this was called a "piggy-back ride" and, when brought up in a discussion with Crowley while drunk on multiple bottles of wine, would argue the demerits of humans settling on this term when pigs were definitely incapable of doing it. [Click here to return to text]

2 Vineyards used to sell their wines by the barrel to wine merchants. Crowley enjoyed this fact too much and, on one particular occasion, transformed into a snake and dove into a barrel of Meursault Perrieres Bordeaux red. Aziraphale had not been pleased that he had to dunk his arm into a barrel of wine to pull out an inebriated snake. [Click here to return to text]

3 Philippe de Rothschild was not exactly a nice fellow. He was a wealthy playboy after all, but Aziraphale did enjoy his wines. Unknown to him, Crowley knew de Rothschild for his car racing prowess as well in the Grand Prix. The demon was very proud of inventing the Grand Prix, with all of the greed, pride, and envy involved in the competition. Unfortunately for him, he didn't receive any commendations for this.[Click here to return to text]

4 Both of them had tried to get him released. They were not aware that neither of them actually helped in this matter--de Rothschild just had better connections than they knew.[Click here to return to text]

5 This song was from the Rodgers and Hart musical _Pal Joey_. It was not yet released on record by Vivienne Segal, but the Bentley had its own ways--if only to get these two man-shaped beings together.[Click here to return to text]

**Author's Note:**

> Why did I think footnotes were needed, coding this was time-consuming
> 
> Also, I know _Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered_ record didn’t come out until the 1950′s even though the song was introduced in 1940. I’m just gonna say the Bentley Does What It Wants. You know, this gives me another idea……….
> 
> Let me know what you guys think! Please feel free to send me ideas or prompts. I’d love to discuss and maybe write them out. This fandom is just so inspiring.
> 
> Pls bother me on Tumblr, I am an awkward potato


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